Storm Tossed: A troubled woman finds peace with herself and God in the midst of life's storms. (13 page)

What would she do without her mother in her life? Faith knew how much mom loved her. Yeah, she could be really annoying and was too over-protective. But she was Faith’s biggest cheerleader and encourager.

Always telling Faith to go for her dreams. To push past fear. To believe anything was possible with God. That she had greatness inside of her and Rachel wanted to draw it out of her. God had a good plan for her life. Jeremiah 29:11, she always told Faith.

More than anything, her mom was her closest friend. She could talk to her mother in a way she couldn’t talk with other people, because she was so shy. She’d confide in mom the secret things on her heart, sometimes just ideas or random thoughts she had, and her mom never laughed but just listened and nodded in understanding.

Before she left for Florida, they often walked at the track together, working to get into healthy shape and lose weight. She missed the time together, just walking. Sometimes Faith wouldn’t even put on her ear buds to listen to her music, but they’d just talk. Or walk together in comfortable silence.

If her mom died, she’d be-alone. Really alone. Yeah, she had friends, but not like her mom. And no one loved her like mom did.

More tears fell, and Faith angrily wiped them away. She’d be embarrassed if her dad came into the room right now and would find out that she was crying. He was always so macho and wanting her to be tough, too.

It irritated her. She didn’t feel half as tough as he seemed to expect her to always be. Dad didn’t ever easily share his emotion. It was hard to stay strong, when her mom was in so much danger. She didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. Autumn was always busy working, and Faith’s few close friends were, too, or studying hard for college.

But she didn’t want to show dad how scared she was right now. It was the fear and worry on his face that scared her more than anything, because dad was scared of nothing—except mom. One time he told his crew of burly construction workers: “Gentlemen, I fear no building height. I fear no bullet, fire, sword, or any danger here on earth. But my wife is a completely different animal when she’s mad.” They all busted out laughing, understanding exactly what he meant.

Faith laughed at the memory of him telling mom this, and then another frightened tear fell. She sniffed and then got up to loudly blow her nose. If dad asked, she’d tell him it was her allergies. He had them, too, so he wouldn’t question that.

He was always coughing and clearing his throat, especially when it was springtime and he had to start mowing the grass outside. His lids would swell up, his eyes red and watering, and he’d sneeze non-stop until Rachel and Faith wanted to scream.

Jackson always hoped Rachel would baby him like his mother did, bringing him hot chicken noodle or tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich or maybe Chic Fil A, the way Caleb did for Catherine when she was sick in the movie
Fireproof
. Rachel loved that movie, and had watched it over and over.

But nothing doing with Rachel. She’d look at him out of the side of her eyes, sniffing indifferently, and if she was in a real good mood, she’d bring him his Claritin allergy medicine and a cold glass of sweet tea. Otherwise, she’d ignore him and ask him how he could have ever served in the Marines, being such a baby. Jackson had nicknamed her
la belle dame sans merci
. The beautiful lady without mercy. So fitting.

With children, her friends, and animals, Rachel was merciful and loving and good. It was just with Jackson that she had so many conflicts. They knew how to push each other’s buttons better than anyone else in the world—and they did it, frequently.
Sometimes,
Faith thought,
on purpose. Why don’t they just grow up and stop fighting so much?

Faith wondered if dad was regretting all the stupid arguments they’d had
. Nothing really matters but God, your family, and love
.
But why is that so hard for people to get?
she thought.

Faith had her own share of stupid fights with her mom. Issues like her not getting a job yet. Rachel wanting her to enroll in college, when Faith wasn’t sure that’s what she wanted to do.

Or, the worst, boys. Rachel was always playing match-maker with Faith, introducing her to cute boys who were, in Rachel’s mind at least, eligible future marriage candidates for Faith.

What if she dies? What if mom never gets to see my future husband—or children?
Not that she was in any hurry to get married, having to put up with a man’s foolishness, and have bratty, snot-nosed, disobedient kids, but she hoped to have a family one day, when she was ready
.
Faith’s stomach knotted in anxiety at the thought again of her mom dying. She padded softly down the hallway on her tiptoes toward the kitchen to get something to eat.

Comfort food,
she thought, looking in the fridge and pantry. Dad had bought some blueberry Pop tarts yesterday. Faith knew mom would scream if she saw these and talk about how many carbs and sugar were in them, plus all the other junk. She shrugged, putting them in the toaster and pouring herself a glass of chocolate milk.
More sugar, but mom isn’t here.

Jackson walked into the kitchen, in his brightly striped robe.
Joseph’s robe
of many colors
, Rachel had called it teasingly when she brought it home for him. She was tired of seeing his old, tattered brown robe and slippers that were falling apart, so she spontaneously bought him some new ones as a gift before she left.

“Whatcha’ cooking?” he asked Faith, scrounging around in the fridge. The duty of grocery shopping had fallen primarily on his shoulders since Rachel went to the ocean. He bought lots of frozen foods, Ravioli’s, spaghetti and sauce, canned soups, chips, ice cream, things Rachel no longer bought for them or ate herself. Faith was having a hard time sticking to a low-carb, low-sugar diet with dad buying the food.

He started frying bacon and eggs, and asked if she wanted any. “I’ll have a little bacon,” she said. “I’m making Pop tarts.”

“Oh, so you found my Pop tarts?” he asked, grinning, and turning the bacon over. But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked over at Faith as if to read her mind and study her mood. He could see the fear masked by a look of indifference in her eyes.

He didn’t want to worry Faith more by telling her the worst of the news that he’d heard before finally dropping off to sleep at 4 a.m. The surge was 12 feet. There were 37 people now found dead. He prayed to God that somehow, Rachel had survived, despite the odds.

He would call his friend Lance after breakfast to see if he could help them and find her. Despite his fears, he was famished. He had to eat. A man of great appetite, he had eaten very little over the past few days, just mostly fixing meals for Faith. She didn’t seem to have much of an appetite, either. But this morning Jackson was hungry.

For nothing is impossible with God,
he reminded himself, and sat down with Faith at the table to eat. His heart broke at how quiet she was, more so than usual, and the worry she was trying so hard to hide. She had dark circles under her eyes, like his. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, quietly, trying with all his being to believe it
. I believe, Lord, help my unbelief
, he prayed silently.

Faith looked up at her dad from her Pop tart, and a big tear fell down her face. He got up and hugged her, holding her bowed head tight to his chest. She put her arms tightly around him as if grabbing onto a lifeline, and she began to sob loudly, and Jackson broke, sobbing too. Together they cried and prayed aloud for Rachel to miraculously still be alive and to come home safe soon. No matter what their problems were with Rachel, they loved her and just wanted her to be all right.

*******

Each morning Rachel would write the day and time in her journal and put a blue large X on the calendar so she wouldn’t lose track of time. It had already been 11 days since the surge hit. She had done her best to conserve the battery in the CB radio. Mostly she’d heard static and when she had tried to call for help, no one had responded.

Rachel kept thinking of the movie
Cast Away
with Tom Hanks, a FedEx employee who was the only survivor of a an airplane crash on an uninhabited island in the South Pacific. He survives with remnants of the plane’s cargo, spearing fish and making a fire, uses an analemma with date marks in a cave, and talks to and argues with
a basketball whom he named Wilson. She hoped she wouldn’t get crazy like that.

She thanked God that the water hadn’t risen to the second story, but she didn’t think it had receded much downstairs, either. She could hear objects floating around downstairs and furniture and glass snapping or breaking. She was still worried about the house stilts holding up under the pressure of the water.

She was now down to rationing her food. She still had some MRE’s but not many left. Not the tastiest things in the world, much like airplane or hospital food. Franks and beans. Chicken A La King. Fruitcake, fruit cocktail, and if she was lucky, a chocolate bar, a cookie or a brownie. The meals came with salt, pepper, and tabasco sauce (it really helped the bland taste!), plastic forks, spoons, and knives. All of the food was dry, so she had to hydrate it with her bottles of water, which was quickly diminishing her water supply.

The MRE’s contained cooking pouches, with chemicals to heat up the food. She’d take the packet with a beef patty or whatever meat there was, stick it inside the cooking pouch, pour in some water, fold the pouch, and it’d heat up, red hot. Jackson had taught her how to use one once. The knowledge came in handy now.

However, she didn’t realize the MRE’s were so loaded with sodium that they caused constipation. She didn’t poop for about two days after eating the first one, and she kept pushing water, praying for God to soften and release her bowel movements. Rachel didn’t want to use up her supply of water bottles, but she wasn’t going to stay constipated!

Everything seemed so surreal, like a bad dream from which she couldn’t wake up. She felt trapped and was fighting hopelessness of being rescued.

It was hot as blazes in here but she was afraid to open the window, letting flies and other insects into the house. They were already swarming downstairs around the water and she prayed for God to protect her from disease. She kept her bedroom closed with towels under the door to avert them. When she had to go to the bathroom in the bucket in the other room, she’d pour vinegar in there as a deterrent to the flies, slapping mosquitoes dead which tried to hungrily feed on her arms and legs. She felt like she had a low-grade fever and had begun coughing.

She remembered the severed pig’s head, swarming with flies, in the book
Lord of the Flies
, that she’d read in high school and she shivered, rebuking the thought.

Jackson had once told her a useful tip to reduce flies around latrines in the wild. She poured some water into a Ziploc sandwich bag and put some pennies in there, and closed it, hanging it near the 5-gallon bucket. Flies have compound eyes and when the sunlight hit the pennies, the flies would think there was a predator in the area. It detracted them. It seemed to help some.

Rachel felt-yes, unclean was the word. She knew it was vain and self-absorbed to keep thinking of taking a hot shower or bath, when there were only God knew how many dead people from Hurricane Ana. She had no idea if her neighbors were dead or alive, and feared the worse. If they were alive, why hadn’t they come to check on her? Rachel kept blowing the shrill whistle, as the CB battery was dead now.

The neighborhood where Rachel had rented the beach house was private, about two miles from town, with only one narrow road leading to it. She didn’t know that road was now blocked from the flood waters and debris, greatly hindering rescue efforts. Resources now were primarily focused on the larger community, in the northwest side of town.

A rescue helicopter’s crew had spotted Rachel’s neighbors. Their canoe reached the debris-blocked edge of the road in the flood waters. With no safe place to land, the helicopter hovered over them and rescuers helped them on board, first lifting Mandy and Andy on a Stokes basket with Ben’s help.

Ben was the last one to get on the helicopter, and immediately told them about Rachel. They’d come back for her later, as it was imperative that they get Andy to the nearest hospital emergency room.

Rachel was afraid to try to venture downstairs to get out of the house, in fear of a dead body, a live shark, or jellyfish being down there. She’d heard the horror stories about a shark swimming down flooded streets after Hurricane Katrina, although she was a little skeptical when she heard it.

When she had looked down the stairs this morning, trying to plan her escape, she’d noticed that several of the stairs were partly broken. It was difficult to assess the damage without going down the steps, and she didn’t feel like that would be very smart, in case the others fell through. She was afraid to try to jump over the broken steps. She might break her leg or worse.

When she got near the stairs, the house shifted, like it wanted to collapse. She was concerned that if she attempted to go downstairs, the stairs or the roof would fall in on top of her. Would she buried alive in this house if she tried to escape?

As she studied the stability of the roof and the stairs, Rachel gasped. She saw two huge snakes swimming around near the staircase. Rachel didn’t know if the snakes were poison or not. In her mind, the only good snake was a dead snake.

Rachel was terrified of snakes. She worried constantly that the snakes would somehow slither upstairs and bite her, especially at night during her sleep.

She was also afraid of a dead body being down there-that was pretty likely, with so many deaths here in Destin. Of course, if there was one, she’d probably have smelled it by now, but she didn’t want to take the chance. She’d freak out if she saw one inside this house.

Rachel’s fears were keeping her a prisoner inside the house. She stayed put for the most part and prayed for the entire neighborhood as she waited long hours inside the hot, humid bedroom. She prayed that somehow Jackson could find out she was alive, so he, Faith and Autumn wouldn’t worry about her and could get her rescued.
Would they worry? Or would they be relieved if she died?
Don’t be ridiculous,
she scolded herself.
Stop the pity parties already!